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Topics - EK WAFFLR

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / What the fuck
November 30, 2021, 09:32:24 PM
What in the everlasting fuck is going on here? I haven't read a single post l, but I'm appalled!
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Lemmy is dead.
December 29, 2015, 01:34:05 AM
This shouldn't be possible. The guy was superhuman.  :cry:
Quote from: Doktor Howl on August 08, 2015, 07:03:03 PM
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on August 08, 2015, 10:25:17 AM
Good luck, Dok.  I see in no way that this could not be a story someday.

No, this ain't ever gonna be a story.  I've been forced out of the profession that has taken most of my life to learn.

This isn't about stories.  Sometimes shit is a little more important than stories.

What the fuck? But Why?

please fucking stop. respect that gender opinions keeps me from having any fucking rights, you binary-elitist redditor!!! PHALLOPHOBIC SCUMS LIKE YOU DESERVE TO DIE!!!!!!! YOU'RE PERPETUATING GENDER FEMINISM!!!!! I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU TO ACCEPT THAT NON-GENDER CULTURE IS LITERALLY INCREDIBLY TRIGGERING TO ME!!! you should fucking accept gender abolition & social justice separatism????? feel free to unfollow &/or block/ignore me.
I have fallen for analogue photography again. I'll post photos here when i get them back from the lab/have them scanned.
I have three 135mm cameras, one 120mm camera and a 110mm camera. As I have to scan the 120 and 110 films manually, they will be fewer than the 135 ones.

1st attempt at 120mm film (using a Diana F+):

In stead of spagging up the youtibe thread or the great fucking song thread, I decided to make this thread for strange music. I constantly find, and I'm always looking for more, weird and strange music to listen to, and to use in my shows.

Point the first:
Mulatu Astatke - Yegelle Tezeta.

Point the second:
The Singing Nuns - Dominique.

Point the third:
Pearls before swine: Guardian Angels.

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / TWID!
October 23, 2014, 10:47:09 AM
I miss ya, you old irish bastard.

This means the only countries left for The winter olympics of 2022  are China and Khazakstan.

Hopefully this means the end of the corrupt old whoremongers that are IOC.

It was in a dream I frist met the Wasp Queen.
I remember being on my balcony on a sunny day, when a huge wasp landed on the table. It was bigger than my hand. It just stood there, and I swear it was looking at me. I was paralyzed with fear. It started slowly walking towards me. I near pissed myself, when I felt something land on my shoulder. It was an even bigger wasp. Its head was the size of a small plate, and it immediately started talking to me, in a voice that sounded like a thousand deaths by chainsaw.

"You must kill it", the voice said. "Take off its head. Do it now."

I dared not disobey, so I reached out for the wasp's head and pulled it off, green goo splurting everywhere. The stench was unbearable, and I vomited like I have never done before.

"well done" said the oher wasp, still on my shoulder.
"We will meet again".

I awoke my the sounds of my own scream. My fiancee did not wake up properly, and muttered something that sounded like "worble warble toil and trouble", turned around and started to snore.
I did not sleep again that night, nor the night after.

On the third night, I passed out from exhaustion, and the Wasp Queen greeted me at once.

"I would like you to meet someone," it said, and suddenly I was in a desert. The sky was as orange as the ground. In the distance I saw a large, bald man. The Wasp Queen told me to go to the bald man, and I followed orders. In no time, as it often is in dreams, I was standing right by the large bald man. He looked at me, with madness in his eyes, and laughed.

I think I died in my dream, then.

His laughter was the laughter of God.
I need some new angry music to listen to at the gym. Any and all recommendations are welcome!
Bring and Brag / The Sermo III files.
February 12, 2014, 06:58:55 PM
I'mma post new music I make here, whenever I make something worth listening to, so as to not spag up other threads wth it. 

Three new songs:

When You're Happy and You Know it
It's Cold Out Here

More incoming shortly. :)
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Russia. '
February 05, 2014, 10:29:21 PM
They take something good, in this instance black metal, and make it infinitely better.
I don't even

Rap Against Rape
And I'm not sure what I think. Thoughts?

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Hi.
November 07, 2013, 03:35:24 PM
I'm on the internet again.
What have I been missing?
No idea if this is anything to get worked up about, but the awful pun in the heading tells me no.
Is a thing now.

Kristoffer Hivju (Game of Thrones)

Thorbjørn Harr (Vikings)

Aksel Hennie (Hercules: The Thracian Wars (2014))

I do approve of this beardiness.
Two vast and trunkless legs of stone / Attn. Roger
August 28, 2013, 08:08:00 PM
Every time I casually glance at your new avatar I see this:

That is all. You may now return to WHNing the place.

Aneristic Illusions / Wtf Apple!
August 09, 2013, 08:06:43 PM
So, last weekend, (12th to 14th of July), me and my chum did London. We met some friends, got drunk, went to a concert, got even more drunk, collapsed. That was friday.
Saturday was spent sightseeing, visiting a friend for beers and late lunch, then getting drunk. And more drunk. And even MORE drunk. We met some new, awesome people, one of whom had just come from his stepdad's stag party. He had a bunch of masks. The maskes portrayed his stepdad. I got two of them, by promising I'd use them in my band's show the following Saturday.

Fast forward to this weekend (19th to 21st of July), me, my band mate and the ladyfriend all take the train from Oslo to Hessdalen, this tkes nine hours. We are p icked up, driven to the festival area, set up our tents, and get drunk, and watch a few bands. collapse in tents.

Saturday was spent bathing in the river (around 8 degrees celsius, or 46 F), barbequing and getting drunk. I suddenly had to play synth for another band, which was fun.
Then it was our turn, as the third last band to play. The time was 01.30 AM. We were shitfaced.
And we looked like this:


Part one: Cup of Brown Joy.

Chapter one: You say "Herbal", I say "No Thanks".

"Herbal?! You gave me herbal?" Arthur spit out his tea, and gave his valet the evil eye. "What is the meaning of this, Carruthers? Are you trying to kill me?"
Carruthers cleared his throat, giving the impression that he thought very little of Arthur's hissy fit indeed. "Yes, sir. I'm afraid we are all out of your regular tea." "By Jove, Carruthers, out of tea? But why didn't you just stroll over to the shop?" Arthur said, eyeballing his manservant with malice aforethought.
"I did to the shop, sir. They were sold out. The manager said hat they hadn't received any tea for weeks. When I returned, I called a colleague of mine to borrow some tea, a task I found most embarrassing, sir. However, the story was the same there. It seems that there's no proper tea to be had in the entire area of Greater London. My apologies, sir."
Arthur fell silent for a bit. He brooded with a passion. This was a crisis! A disaster of epic proportions! Arthur needed, no, craved his tea. He would sell his own grandmother for a cup. Well, he'd sell your grandmother. He let out a deep sigh, deflating like an old zeppelin.
"This is dire news, Carruthers. I need my tea. And herbal just won't do. No right-thinking man drinks herbal. Say, you haven't happened to read anything about it in the papers, or heard something on the radio?"
"I'm afraid not, sir. I find it very mysterious, to be honest." The manservant looked nonplussed, or at least not as plussed as usual. This troubled Arthur. Carruthers were his intellectual superior in almost every aspect, and he secretly wondered if God had the intention of turning his life into a Wodehouse novel. He hoped not.
Arthur brooded a bit more. Then, he got a determined look on his face, stood up and walked towards the front door.
"I must investigate, Carruthers. This tealessness can't continue. I shall comb every tea shop in London! "
"Very well, sir. If sir doesn't mind, I will telephone my colleagues to see if I can find out some more," Carruthers said.
"Very good, Carruthers, get right on that!"

Arthur hated using public transport, but he didn't dare drive his care in his current state. Besides, driving in London was a hassle at the best of times. As the metro noisily took him to Oxford Street, he daydreamed about doing 90mph down it in his '37 Cord 812.
The metro stopped, and he got off, almost running to the nearest tea shop. As he entered it, he noticed a distinct lack of items on the shelves. There were plenty accessories and postcards, but very little tea. Arthur asked the proprietor about this.
"I'm afraid I don't have any answers. I haven't been able to find fresh tea for weeks. The only teas I have left are herbals."
Arthur shuddered. "But, why has this happened? And why haven't the news reported on it?"
"It's baffling, isn't it? But I know as little as you, I'm afraid."
Arthur thanked the proprietor and left.

He spent the rest of the day visiting all the stores he could find, all had the same story to report, and nobody knew why. Defeated, Arthur went home. The valet had no news, as his manservant colleagues knew nothing either.

That night, Arthur wept himself to sleep, and dreamt of horrible things.
Lately I've been thinking about writing, and what makes people write in the first place.

I have come to the conclusion that I need a Muse.
Now, I've all my life thought that a Muse is a Significant other, A female person, perhaps, a lady, you know - an opposite person of the contradictory gender.
But I've changed my mind. A muse, for all intents and purposes, is someone that you NEED to understand what you're trying to say.

So, I've chosen a Muse. Be warned. It might be a crappy road ahead, because I really, REALLY need to get my writing skills in order.